


No Vacancy

by xCake



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angry Sex, Angst, Anxiety, Both Bucky and Reader are gonna get kind of dark in this so… Dark Fic (I guess?), Breathplay, Breeding Kink, Choking, Degradation, F/M, Feels, Hair-pulling, Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Restraints, Rough Sex, Somnophilia (sex with a sleeping partner – and it’s gonna be more than once), Spanking, Subspace, VERY OBVIOUSLY 18+, Very Dubious Consent, throatfucking, visible marks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2020-07-04
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:22:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25066864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xCake/pseuds/xCake
Summary: You and Bucky have been on so many missions together, you’ve lost count. How is it that you’ve never shared a bed until now?[ Bucky x Reader ]
Relationships: Bucky Barnes x Reader
Comments: 7
Kudos: 104





	No Vacancy

It feels like a fever dream, the way his fingertips dig so deliciously into your breasts, your buttocks, your thighs, let alone when they slide in between. Bucky touches you where you’re oh-so-vulnerable until you’re sure you’re delirious, and it’s all hazy and so, so _good_ —

And then the drag of his cock against your folds sends a shiver down your spine. It jars you awake.

“Bucky,” you whisper, voice hoarse from sleep. Your hand fumbles around behind you in the darkness, but all you can feel is _him._ “What are you—?”

Heart hammering inside of your chest, you finally grip his thigh; you’re frozen, poised, ready to push him away but all you can focus on is the heat of him in between your legs, the thrum of excitement rushing through your veins.

You want this.

A point only further proven when he shifts, and the tip slowly, teasingly slides inside. You’re so wet for him that there’s barely any resistance.

“Shit,” you swear, but it comes out sounding more like a whine. “Shit, Bucky—”

The last syllable of his name is snuffed out when he presses further in and you feel exactly how thick he is. It’s a pleasant burn, the stretch of him inside of you and when he fully seats himself within, you can’t help but moan.

You _want_ this.

Soft kisses to your pulse prompt you to turn your head to the side to give him better access. Of course you listen. The thought of him suddenly fucking you like this has your walls clenching around him.

“Please,” you find yourself begging, digging your nails into his skin to spur him forward. “God, I’ve wanted this for so long. Please.”

Solid muscle tenses beneath your fingertips before Bucky drags his cock out of you so slowly, so torturously that you feel like you’ll go mad – and then he slams back inside, punching the breath from your lungs. The pace he sets isn’t soft and sweet like you expect from being spooned like this, the intimacy; but hard, almost punishing. Each powerful thrust makes the bed creak, makes your body rock, makes you feel each and every inch of him.

And you do. You fucking do.

You feel the pressure build, feel the _pleasure_ build until you just can’t take it anymore, and you’re gripping the sheets like a lifeline, holding on tight like they’ll prolong the inevitable cascade.

You want it. 

And then everything shifts to the right, and you’re on your front, now, face pressed into a pillow, vibranium fingers splayed against the back of your skull as Bucky drives into you even harder. The smell of him swiftly envelops you, sandalwood and musk and everything him and you’re sure you’re drooling on his pillow from getting the literal breath fucked out of you. Not that you care.

When you try to beg him for more, all that comes out is a muffled, incomprehensible moan.

That’s when the pace changes; it’s a little faster, now, a little shallower. He yanks your hair back by the roots, and the pain and the oxygen bring on some vague awareness that he must be close.

You want to feel him blow.

A gasp of air is your first priority, and then, “Not inside—”

You want it, but you can’t. He’s fucking you bare. What a terrible idea to let him do you like this, but _fuck_ it’s so good, he’s so good, he’s hitting your g-spot in just the right place, over and over, right there—

“Right there, fuck, I’m gonna— gonna—”

Your back arches when you finally reach your peak, and you let go with a sharp cry. Maybe it’s the intensity, or maybe it’s the sudden flood of warmth throughout your core that makes your toes curl; you’re not sure because either way he’s pushed in as deep as he can go and he’s filled you to the brim. He’s filled you up. He’s come inside.

It feels too good – too _right,_ so much thatyour body is singing, and you lack the energy to even be upset. What you don’t lack is the energy to be turned on by it, by the knowledge that he’s come undone because of you. That he’s made you his.

His grip on your hair loosens, and as he pulls out, you try to catch your breath. There’s a sense of loss when he’s gone, soon forgotten as you gingerly pull yourself up, muscles aching; you’ll feel this in the morning for sure. 

When his cum leaks out of you, you make a face. “I _said_ not inside. It’s messy.”

A joke, breathy, teasing.

You can feel him dripping down your thigh and onto the sheets. It’s fine; you’ll get Plan B in the morning. He probably just got caught up in the moment like you.

No response.

It’s starting to dawn on you now that you haven’t heard a single word out of him, and that’s when your eyes jerk up from the sheets to his face, expecting to find some smirking, apologetic look there. 

What you see instead makes a cold sweat break out on your skin.

_Oh no._

Those pretty blue eyes are so blank, so distant, it’s like he doesn’t even see you, like he’s not even here. His body might be, but not his mind. Whether it’s a flashback or a nightmare, you’ve seen it all before – multiple times, even, but never like this.

Angry, yes. Scared, yes. But this?

No.

He didn’t want this. You did.

He won’t remember this. You will.

When Bucky pulls the blankets over himself, seemingly satisfied with a job well done, you find yourself at a loss for what to do when he wakes.


End file.
